


One Night

by SilverRumRunner



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, fanfic remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRumRunner/pseuds/SilverRumRunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first chapter of The White Hart, from Loki's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigridhr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigridhr/gifts).



> Here is my tasertricks remix submission for Sigridhr. She gave me permission to write something for her incredible piece The White Hart. A must read. 
> 
> Not too much on the smut, but I rated it M in case (and the original fic is a strong M) Hope you like this, I did my best :)

Loki finished tightening the straps of his chosen mask before stepping forth from the shadows.  He happened to be the fortunate male this year to pull the coveted mask of the white hart.  Although honestly, it may have had less to do with fortune and more to do with his sleight of hand and magic which granted him possession of the item.  The ritual brought luck to the participant, and he would need all the luck who could find, borrow, or steal in order to successfully carry out his plans.

 His eyes scanned the mass of revelers, but narrowed as they spotted his brother running through the bonfires with his woman like a lovesick loon.  Thor attending the celebration with his betrothed was an unforeseen obstacle, but it would not deter him.  He kept to the edges of the light while he searched for a potential mate for the evening.  

A breeze dissipated the thick plumes of smoke, and as if by conjuration, revealed a petite female standing alone.  She looked unlike any of the other elves, but this only intrigued him more.  Where she lacked in height, she made up for with her voluptuous hour-glass figure. Loki felt a heat start to burn, and not from the surrounding flames. He imagined himself gripping her hips, steadying her from bucking as his tongue delved deep into her core. Sucking and teasing until she comes apart, shuddering and crying for more.

He sensed her eyes on him, even though they were obscured by her own mask.  Her body tensed when his gaze lingered longer than a casual perusal should.  He smirked and tilted his head to the side.  Although his primal urges enjoyed a chase, he would not force his attentions on her unless welcomed.  He stepped back into the shadows.  

Loki circled the edges of the celebration, weaving between dancers.  He intended to search for someone more eager, but his focus kept returning to the odd girl.  A few males pulled her with them to dance.  One had the audacity to kiss her. Loki didn’t realize his hands tightly fisted until he felt the sharp sting of his nails digging into the flesh of his palms.  He turned away, fully intending to pick the next willing female he found and forget all the jealousy and lust he felt for the intriguing, dark-haired beauty.  He allowed his gaze to fall on her one last time.

He stopped in the middle of the dancing couples when he noticed her watching him intently.  He may be damned to Hel for it, but he decided to approach her and take a chance.  He placed his hand over his chest and bowed low in greeting.  Despite his fugitive status, he knew his mother would be pleased he hadn’t forgone all his courtly manners.  He held his breath as he offered her his hand, hoping she’d accept.  She paused a long while before she placed her palm against his.

Loki gripped her hand and pulled her against him.  With her consent, he fully intended to enjoy every moment of her company.  His free hand tangled in her long, dark curls.  He moved his other to glide down the side of her pale, unblemished neck.  He focused on the spot he intended to ravish and mark soon.  Enough waiting.  He needed to move them to a secluded area, or he’d take her there in front of everyone. His possessive side didn’t wish any other eyes to feast on the site of her bare body.

He led them to a small grove he chose earlier.  The ground lined in soft clover and the area illuminated by the pale, blue light of the evening sky.  Sounds of the celebration dulled in the background to a low hum.  Loki fell to his knees.  His hands grazed down along the curves of her shoulders, breasts, waist, and paused on her hips.  Even though he participated in this ritual to benefit his own goals, he intended to take his time and enjoy himself, mixing business with pleasure.  Distracted by imagining her thighs gripped tight around his waist, he almost let her remove his mask before the proper time.

Impatient to expose her bare skin, Loki didn’t even consider the unusualness of her garb.  They were simply pieces of fabric hindering him from his goal.  He spun her around and cupped her breasts as he longed to do since the moment he laid eyes on her.  The pad of his thumb brushed over her pert nipple, causing her to stiffen and gasp.  He grinned, doubting she even realized the delectable noises she made due to his touch.  His hand moved lower and stilled at the intense heat between her thighs.  Her undergarment already damp from her want and need of him.  He chuckled as she bucked and thrust against his hand, desiring more friction.  The eager vixen would need to be taught patience.    

Her fingers tangled through locks of his hair.  Her nails lightly scratched his scalp.  Loki’s eyes squeezed shut, and he bit back a deep groan. Tingles jolted from his head, down his spin, and ended making his already snug trousers even more uncomfortable.  Recently lost to madness in pursuit of his own goals, Loki suddenly felt the long, barren span of time that had passed since he last sought pleasure from another person.  Perhaps he needed a lesson in patience as well, because he feared he would last as long as his viginal self did the first time.

A loud rise of shouts and cheers broke through the peace of their secluded grove.  He requested her to remove her mask first.  That was when his whole world came to a halt.

It’s her.  The little chit that followed Thor’s woman around like a lost pet.  She could boast no exceptional skills, even by mortal standards.  And yet, he remembered her.  Remembered her ridiculous name, Darcy Lewis.  Remembered what a pity when she didn’t flee the town when he sent the Destroyer.  Remembered he planned to seek her out when his dominance on Midgard had been established. Remembered her being overlooked and dismissed by those she called friends.  

Darcy smiled up at him, waiting patiently for him to remove his mask as well. Loki felt for the knot, but hesitated loosening it. He wanted to remember this moment as well.  How she gazed up at him with desire and longing.  He knew once he removed his facade, everything would change.

She cowered back in fear, instantly recognizing him.  She questioned why she would even consider sleeping with him.  The pressing bulge in his trousers unmistakably proved his interest did not wain from the revelation of her identity.  Despite her fear and hesitancy, he could still see her desire heating her flushed skin and dilating her expressive eyes.  He gave her a few reasons why they should proceed, including the promise how it would be one evening she would never forget.  She would not regret it either, of that he had no doubts.

_“One night?” Darcy asked, hesitantly._

One night.  She should mean nothing to him.  She was beneath him in every imaginable way, yet she felt like a kindred spirit.  One night for him to finally sate his need and slake his lust.   One night to indulge his curiosity for the quirky mortal. One night to rid his unhealthy, unexplainable obsession.  

_Loki’s smile made it clear that he knew he’d won. “One night,” he echoed._

_She nodded, and took a deep breath. “Okay.”_

Loki leaned forward and finally tasted her parted, wine-stained lips. What harm could one night bring? One night would be all they would ever want or need. His words convinced not only Darcy to succumb, but himself as well. He was a master liesmith afterall.

 


End file.
